CHAPTER VII.
NOW FOR HOME AGAIN.
Dr. Seltzer and his scientific friend returned down the mountain,reaching the flowery carriage-way which led up to the mansion aboutfour P. M.; but here the former suddenly whirled his horse and set offtoward Acapulco, at his utmost speed. Mr. Burton did not fire at him,to stop him; if he wished to run away from the horrible exposure whichhe had not the courage to face, it was no longer any business of thedetective. This very flight would prove his guilt the moreincontestably. It was with a pang of pity that he noticed the Donna,coming forth on the piazza with a face illumined with expectation ofmeeting her husband; he replied to her inquiry, that the doctor hadgone down the road without saying how long he expected to be gone; andasking a private interview with Don Miguel, he at once, withoutcircumlocution, laid before him the painful facts.
Of course the Don was shocked and grieved beyond expression, more onhis daughter's account than on his own; and blamed himself severely forhaving introduced a stranger, without proper credentials, into hisconfidence. If the murder had been committed from jealousy, anger, orupon any impulse of passion, he would not have thought so badly of theyoung man; but that it should have been done for _money_ was to him anirreparable crime and disgrace.
Mr. Burton had thought of returning to Acapulco that afternoon andevening, considering that his presence could not be welcome to thefamily under such circumstances; but Don Miguel positively forbade himto attempt the journey at that late hour, as it might be dangerous atany time, and now, if the doctor wished to revenge himself upon hisbetrayer, a better opportunity could not occur than on this lonelyroad, where he might linger in the expectation of his passing. From theinterview which followed between the father and his child, Mr. Burtonwas absent; he saw no more of the beautiful young wife, for he left the_hacienda_ early the following morning; but her father informed himthat she bore the news better than he expected--simply because sherefused to believe in the guilt of her husband!
Don Miguel and two of his servants accompanied Mr. Burton all the wayback to town; the Don affirming that he had some business requiring avisit to the city sooner or later; though his guest knew very well thathis real object was to protect him from any danger which mightthreaten. For this he was grateful, though his courage did not shrink,even from the idea of secret assassination.
He was detained in Acapulco several days before he had an opportunityof leaving for the isthmus. During that time he learned, by a messengerwhom Don Miguel sent him, that, during the Don's absence from the housein the two days of his journey to town and back, Dr. Seltzer hadreturned there, possessed himself of every article of value which hecould carry away upon his person, including the Donna's jewels, whichshe had inherited from her mother, and a large sum in gold, and hadpersuaded his wife to accompany his flying fortunes to some unknownregion. In the letter which Don Miguel wrote to the stranger, heexpressed himself as one robbed and left desolate. It was not the lossof money or jewels, but the loss of his poor, confiding, loving child,that he dwelt upon. The Donna's was one of those impulsive, impassionednatures which must love, even if it knows the object unworthy. No deedwhich her husband could commit could make him otherwise to her than theman with whose fate her own was linked for "better or worse." Mr.Burton folded up the letter with a sigh; no power of his could amendthe fate of this young creature, which promised to be so sad.
While he remained in the ruinous old place he used extraordinaryprecautions to insure his own safety; for he believed that Dr. Seltzer,or George Thorley, would seek revenge upon him, not only for the sakeof the revenge, but to silence the accusation which he might carry backto the States. It was well that he was thus careful, as, among otherproofs that he was thus pursued, was the following. One afternoon, ashe sat in the great, breezy corridor of the hotel, an old woman came inwith a basket and offered to sell him some particularly fine oranges.He bought a couple of the largest, and was about to eat one, when heobserved that she did _not_ offer the fruit to any other customer; uponthis, he regarded her more closely, and was satisfied that all was notright. When she had lingered a time to notice if he ate the fruit, hestrolled out to the street, and in her presence called up a stray pig,to which he fed pieces of the orange. When she saw this, the old hag,who was an Indian, quickly disappeared, and shortly after the pig died.
It was, therefore, with feelings of satisfaction that the detectivefinally bade farewell to Acapulco on a return steamer. He had waitedsome time at the isthmus, where the days had hung heavily, but he hadcomforted himself with his motto about patience; and now, as he assuredme at the close of his narrative, "If heaven would give us a propitiouspassage home we should be _in time_--all would be right."
Day was breaking when Mr. Burton finished his narrative; the rain hadceased, but a thick fog hung over the sea and land, making every thinggloomy and disagreeable.
"I must go now, and awaken my little girl," he said, rising.
"But you have not read me the written confession of that Thorley."
"Richard, you must forgive me if I do not see fit to allow you to readit at present. I have a purpose in it, or I should not keep back fromyou any of my own information. That confession did not surprise me; Iknew the murderer long ago, but I could not prove it. You shall soon beat rest about this affair. I only pray, now, for a speedy voyage, andthat Leesy Sullivan may be alive when we reach New York. Richard!" headded, with a passionate gesture, "you do not dream what a constantfever I am in--I am so afraid we shall be _too late_. I can not bearthe horror which that would be to me."
And indeed it did seem, at that time, as if my own engrossing interestwas scarcely equal to that of my companion, who yet had nothing at allat stake, while I had so much. Not only then, but at various othertimes during the remainder of our voyage, he expressed so much anxietylest Miss Sullivan should be dead before we arrived home, that I, whowas always torturing myself with conjectures, again revived mysuspicions that she was connected with the murder.
In the mean time, the sun arose upon the bustle of disembarking fromthe steamer to the cars. Fortunately, the fog lifted by eight o'clock,and we could enjoy the magnificent scenery through which the carswhirled us--scenery so at variance, in its wildness and the exuberanceof its foliage, and the secluded aspect of its beauty, with this noisywonder of civilization which scattered its fiery deluge of sparks alongthe path of gorgeous tropical flowers waving at us, sometimes, in longstreamers of bloom from the topmost branches of gigantic trees.
Nothing occurred to mar the tranquillity of the passage home. On theexpected day, we landed at the dock in New York, and I stepped upon theearth with a curious, excited feeling, now that we drew so near to theclose of our efforts, which made me almost light-headed. We took acarriage and drove to Mr. Burton's; he was expected by the housekeeper,so that we found the house prepared for our reception. A fine dinnerwas served at the usual hour--but I could not eat. Appetite and sleepfled before my absorbing anticipations. My host, who noticed myintense, repressed excitement, promised me, before I retired for thenight, that to-morrow, God willing, the secret places of the wickedshould be laid bare--that myself and all those interested shouldwitness the triumph of the innocent and the confusion of the guilty.